


respite

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Guilt, Nightmares, One Shot, Star Gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: While resting after another long day of travelling with his companions, Alucard is visited by memories of home and his past - memories that quickly turn into nightmares.





	respite

_Unseen Forces and How to Use Them._

_Communing with the Spirit World._

_The Old Book of Necromancy: A Precise History, its Procedures, Rites, and Mysteries._

Alucard walks at a slow pace, carefully reading every spine that catches his eye. Towering above and on all sides of him are rows upon rows of books. Some he can recall while others along with their contents remain unknown. He thought the library would feel much smaller now that he’s grown, but the shelves still go on forever.

Despite everything, there are fond memories here. Possibly the fondest of them all. Long nights spent playing hide and seek among other childhood games. Listening to bedtime stories read by the old Master Librarian to help put his young mind to rest. Wandering souls that move freely throughout the aisles while a golden-haired boy named Adrian chases them, giggling and proclaiming that one day he will catch them. That is how Alucard wants to remember home.

Yet something doesn’t feel right. The library, much like the living breathing castle it resides in, has always been a strange place – floating books, changing pathways, and things that reveal themselves only in the darkest corners of one’s eye. Alucard grew accustomed to that sort of strangeness. This is different; the air feels different. His usually heightened senses have become dull and unfocused, as though he were walking through a thick fog. Being led astray from his predetermined path. Deceived, tempted. But who is behind this deception? What is tempting him?

Alucard continues his careful trek down the aisle until he arrives at an oddly placed curve. He turns around the corner and his heart nearly leaps into his throat. Nerves quickly steady themselves as he tries to identify whatever is ahead of him; a body, lying immobile directly in his path, its back turned to him.

If the dhampir were in his right mind, his hand would instinctively reach for the longsword hanging off his hip before making any other movements. Yet Alucard doesn’t even glance down at it. There is doubt, suspicion even, but he cannot ignore his conscious as it screams at him. _Help them. It’s not safe. They need help._

Alucard obeys. Rushing forward, he comes to a frantic halt. He kneels down, hovering his gloved hand over the body, hesitant. Unsure of whether or not he should touch them. “Are you all right?” He asks, his voice concerned yet gentle. The body does not stir. “Can you hear me?” Finally, he tentatively places a palm upon their shoulder, shifting them onto their back.

A familiar sense of unease takes hold of the dhampir; there’s something wrong with the body. There’s no weight and it feels hollow. Fake, like a doll. He focuses on the facial features, everything from their lips and cheekbones to their closed eyes. Ordinary. Truly unremarkable. A face belonging to an Everyman who would easily find themselves lost in a crowd. Alucard doesn’t harbour these thoughts out of malicious intent; they are simple observations. An attempt to ground himself in some sort of reality in an unreal situation.

Alucard’s head perks up the moment he hears it. A voice, faint, indistinct, but there. He couldn’t make out what it said the first time, so he remains still as the dead, holding his breath, and listens closely.

 ** _Drink…_** It repeats, clearer than before. Alucard’s eyes shift about, his human heart pounding in his ears.

“I don’t understand.”

**_You must drink._ **

A pause, then realization. Alucard glances at the body. “No,” he states firmly. “No, I don’t.”

**_You must. You are tired. You need your strength._ **

The dhampir tries to ignore the voice. It should be an easy endeavor; after all, he spent years perfecting a resistance to his hereditary bloodlust. But defiance soon gives way to weak hesitance. Whatever spell that has the library and the unconscious stranger in its grasp is affecting him as well. Yes, he is tired. And he will need more strength for the fight ahead.

Looking down at the body, Alucard swallows hard, lifting them into his arms while craning their neck to one side. He runs his fingers along the smooth, unblemished skin. He wants to hate himself for giving into temptation but can’t. This is a necessary evil. Without speaking out loud, Alucard promises the stranger that it will be quick and painless. He lowers his head, baring his fangs. Quick and painless.

Alucard holds the body in a delicate manner, the same way a lover would. The blood pours into his mouth, steadily, warming his throat. It tastes so strong yet so sweet. He tries avoiding any sloppiness, but a small amount manages to trickle down the corners of his lips.

 ** _More. You need more._** He thinks it’s the disembodied voice speaking to him, echoing inside his head, before coming to an unsettling awareness. The voice is his own. Even more disturbing – it speaks the truth. Alucard lifts his head, licking his wet dripping lips, before biting down a second time. **_More. More._** His grip on the stranger’s back becomes so tight, it feels as though he could tear right through their shirt; perhaps even their skin. The dhampir pushes his fangs in deeper and deeper, spilling more blood. Any initial reluctance is now gone, in its place is a ravenous hunger that grows stronger with every swallow. Streams of thick, dark fluid drop to the floor while staining his white shirt. There’s no voice telling him to stop. This is no longer quick and painless.

Finally, Alucard pulls back, his hold on the body loosening as they droop lifelessly in his arms. He cranes his neck, looking towards the heavens, and takes a few much-needed breaths. His face is red with blood and blush. He feels exhausted yet wholly satisfied, despite knowing he shouldn’t. In the midst of everything, Alucard’s eyes blink and shut themselves before wandering back to the body. He’s pulled out of his state upon seeing what he has done and who he has done it to without knowing.

The body’s ordinary, unremarkable face is gone, as are its plain clothes. Alucard’s hands and arms shake in horror as he stares down into Trevor Belmont’s open, surprised, and dead eyes. Blood trickles out of his mouth and his neck barely resembles a neck at all. Had the dhampir gone any further, he might have torn off the hunter’s head completely.

Alucard stumbles, almost about to fall backwards, until something brushes up against his side. In spite of his fear, he looks. There lies Sypha, her blue robes stained a dark red. He can’t see her face clearly but after staring upon the pool of blood accumulating around her head, neck and shoulders, Alucard already knows what happened. He knows what he did.

This is the first time Alucard has felt himself going into shock. In a panicked rush, he tries telling himself what should have been obvious from the start. This is a dream, it must be. A horrible nightmare unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. But reassurance soon gives way to another frightful revelation.

_What if I am still in Gresit?_

Alucard’s eyes widen as his chest begins to ache with how fast and hard his heart pounds against his ribcage. What if he is still asleep beneath the poor city of Gresit and no one has come to wake him? Not his hunter or his scholar. Everything that’s happened has been part of a long, elaborate dream conjured up by himself or by some curse he contracted after the very battle that forced him into a yearlong sleep. It’s ridiculous, yet entirely plausible.

There’s little time to consider that possibility when Alucard feels an unbearable heat upon his cheeks followed by smoke, ash, and fire pushed by sudden gusts of wind. He tries shielding himself as more and more books catch aflame, tumbling from their shelves like deceased birds. Alucard manages to catch a glimpse of whatever is causing this chaos and comes face to face with a haunting yet all too familiar sight.

“Mother…?” He gasps, his eyes welling up with tears of pain – pain from the flames so close to his own face and from the memory of seeing her atop that infernal pyre.

“Adrian…” Their eyes meet as Alucard waits to hear the same words she shouted during her final moments and what propelled him to defy his father’s need for genocidal rage.

But Lisa, or a nightmarish vision meant to mirror her image, never speaks those words. “Help me, my son! Please! Save me!”

The louder she cries, the higher and more powerful the flames grow. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Alucard cannot move. The only thing he can do is weakly reach out towards her, his other arm still carrying Trevor’s body. “Mother…” He repeats, struggling for air.

“You can stop this! Adrian, please! Save me!”

The sight of her body gradually crumbling to ashes is blurred by the tears dripping down Alucard’s heated cheeks. Then, deafening quietness. No more raging fires, no more screams of agony. Not even the dhampir can bring himself to utter a single noise. _That’s not what she said..._ He tries to remember, tries to bring forth the truth, though he knows it will only cause him more pain. _That’s not what I heard before she-!_

“You were responsible.”

Like a frightened animal on the run from a predator, Alucard spins around when he hears that voice. Once upon a time, it filled him with a sense of familial love, of safety. Now the voice and the person it belongs to only fill him with dread that causes his insides to twist.

Vlad Dracula Tepes towers over his son, his eyes ablaze with hatred. “You were there when they murdered her. You bore witness to every torture they put her through. But you did nothing.” His voice is low, and his tone deliberate. One wrong word or movement could lead to a violent, bloody end for Alucard. Yet still he pushes himself to speak against his father... or what used to be the man he called father.

“I wanted to. I wanted to slaughter everyone in that square. But she... mother spoke to me and told me not-“

Before Alucard can finish, claws rake across his chest, reopening the wound given to him exactly one year ago. Dracula’s quick yet impossibly strong attack throws him against a bookshelf, his shirt now completely red with his own blood and the blood of his companions. “ _HOW DARE YOU COME TO ME PREACHING MERCY WHEN YOU ARE JUST AS GUILTY AS THE REST OF THEM?”_

Dracula’s roar shakes Alucard down to his very core. He weakly reaches for his sword, a feeling of déjà vu flooding his senses, but is stopped when his opponent grabs his throat and lifts him up. “I should have never spared you. I should have finished what we started the night you returned home.”

“P-please...” There’s no point in reasoning or begging with a monster, but what other choice does Alucard have? “Stop this madness... this... massacre... will not bring her back... it will bring you no salvation...”

Dracula’s grip tightens as the last few gasps of air escape Alucard’s open mouth. “I have already accepted Hell as my salvation a long time ago. There is none for you.”

 

* * *

 

Darkness and silence; two forces that greet the dhampir as good friends would the moment his eyes force themselves open. With his breath heavy and his mind racing, Alucard raises his head. Dracula and the library are gone. All that remains are the rickety walls of an abandoned cabin and the sweat-drenched bed sheets covering his body. On one side of him is a curled up Sypha, keeping most of the blankets to herself. On the other side lies Trevor, his face firmly planted against the makeshift pillow. They are as Alucard left them last night before the three of them fell asleep – untouched and alive.

Alucard sits up and hangs his head like a cumbersome weight. He ghosts his fingertips along the scar blemishing his chest – a personal tick that brings him no relief or comfort. Of course, it was only a nightmare. Yet why did he allow it to continue for as long as it did?

He moves to the end of the bed, doing his best not to disturb his companions, and tries to make sense of his own mind. Dracula is a monster and has willingly damned himself all in the name of vengeance; that much is true. Yet Alucard struggles to believe another truth – Lisa’s death was no fault of his or his father’s. Wasn’t it? Would Dracula truly say all those horrible things to his own son and mean every word? Alucard wants to say no, but there is a part of him that painfully denounces his foolishness and, in his eyes, naivety. He decides to convince himself of something else that should come easily. _Remember what she said. Remember what she told you before she…_

“Hey…” Alucard is brought back to reality by the sound of Trevor’s groggy voice. He glances over his shoulder and sees the hunter staring at him, somewhere between sleep and consciousness. In the briefest instance, Trevor’s neck, chin, and mouth are all covered with blood. “You alright?”

Alucard doesn’t answer. He wants to but holds onto the belief that his inner turmoil should not concern anyone. They don’t need to worry about him, so he says nothing. “Fine then…” Trevor grumbles, lowering his head, frustrated by the dhampir’s lack of a reply. Alucard quickly turns away as a single yet powerful word comes to him. _Monster._ A word that so aptly describes his father – perhaps even himself.

The stifling air within the cabin turns suffocating. Alucard hopes the cold winter winds will help clear his mind. Standing up, he heads towards the door, not bothering with his long black coat. He opens and closes it as quietly as possible though unbeknownst to him, the hunter and Speaker are wide awake. Sypha watches him leave, her own concern growing, and almost kicks Trevor under the blankets for responding so inconsiderably.

Trevor regrets his words as well. The fact that he’s been having difficulty sleeping is no excuse and knows this, but he doesn’t run after Alucard. Not yet. Maybe he would prefer to be left alone with no desire to be smothered by two worried humans. Although this thought of Trevor’s could be another misjudgement of Alucard’s character.

Sypha on the other hand is already out the door, her arms folded tightly around her shivering body as she trudges through the snow. She finds Alucard sitting on the edge of a snow bank not too far from the cabin, staring out across the pure white field towards the dense Wallachian forest. Getting closer, she notices how the gently falling flakes stick to his hair and eyelashes, but he can barely bring himself to wipe them away.

“Um...” Sypha begins awkwardly. Alucard turns to her, the look on his face distant, solemn, and the two stare at each other. “Would... would you mind some company?”

Another quiet moment as Alucard’s expression softens. This act of compassion seems so small and ordinary, yet it surprises him no less. His eyes lower to the ground before he turns away. “Not at all,” he quietly replies.

Upon hearing a positive answer, Sypha’s spirits rise ever so slightly. She sits beside Alucard, their arms rubbing against each other. For a second, she can feel him tremble. Is it the cold? She thought vampires, including those with human blood running through their veins, couldn’t feel the elements. Or is it something else?

Scared that the sentences hanging just off the tip of her tongue might not be the right ones, Sypha doesn’t speak. Much to her unawareness, Alucard isn’t sure of what to say either. The air of uncertainty shifts when they both feel another presence coming closer. Without any announcement apart from the loud crunching of snow underneath his boots, Trevor drops himself down on the other side of Alucard. He can tell something is still wrong almost immediately. The problem however lies in the hunter’s ability (or more accurately a lack thereof) to offer words of comfort. He could always try but realizes that any attempt would most likely make the situation worse.

Perhaps it isn’t advice that Trevor should offer, but rather a distraction. He looks up, ignoring every large snowflake that falls into his eyes. The night skies are bright with stars, some of which he instantly recognizes. “That must be Ayish.”

Both Alucard and Sypha turn to him, their shared sense of curiosity peaking. “... the Great Bear,” Alucard states.

“That’s the one.” Trevor continues to search for more constellations. “There’s Kesîl and… I think that’s Kimah, the Pleiades over there.”

Sypha cranes her head backwards. “There! I see it too. It’s so beautiful.”

While his two humans stare in awe at nature’s wonders, Alucard is brought back to another memory of home – the Observatory, where anyone could study the night sky and its gems without having to worry about distance. Another one of his favourite places within the castle. Unlike the library, this recollection has not been desecrated by a nightmare, although it is no less bittersweet. Still, he manages a smile as sad as it may seem.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alucard notices Sypha raise her index and middle finger together. A soft golden light emits from the very tips, like a pulse that only beats once as it encompasses all three of them. Suddenly, Alucard feels much warmer, a comforting sensation that stays with him. He looks over at Sypha who gives him a smile in return. It’s a pleasant surprise; he’s so used to the kind of spells that would only be used in the heat of battle or to threaten. Though he never once doubted her capabilities.

Without making eye contact, Trevor finally offers his hand. Alucard takes it, savouring its warmth. The nightmare is still there and it may never fully disappear. But at least the stars can offer some respite.

 


End file.
